


all bitter and clean

by andchaos



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/F, New Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:12:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9297626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: Clary gets dragged along to a New Year's party, but she finds that it's not as bad as she thought - not while Isabelle is there to keep her company.





	

            Clary Fray was not interested in New Year’s parties. She didn’t have anything against parties in particular, and did go to them sometimes, when she was in the right mood. The problem was that now she was _not_ in the right mood, and she always hated them then. All parties were loud and messy and too much to deal with, especially in college, but New Year’s parties were another animal entirely: all of that, dialed up to eleven, and virtually guaranteed to make her head pound the next morning from a mix of deafening music, shouting college kids, and her best friend pouring way too much vodka into the drink he gave her because he always poured it right from the bottle without measuring out shots.

            That best friend in question was currently sitting on her bed, bouncing the mattress up and down and looking at her with wide, imploring eyes as he made his case to get Clary to forsake all her common sense and go to this party with him tonight.

            “Clary, you don’t _understand_ ,” Magnus Bane insisted. “New Year’s parties are an _experience_.”

            “Yeah,” Clary snorted, crossing her arms. “An experience that I know for a fact I absolutely don’t want to have.”

            “Come on,” he said. “You’ve ducked out of every single New Year with me since senior year, when we were in high school. It’s been years. It’s our last New Year’s we can spend together in college. We’re graduating in May.”

            “I know when I graduate Magnus, thanks. That’s why I’m trying to hammer out my schedule for next semester. You know, our last one. It’s kind of important.”

            “Yes, but this is a once in a lifetime thing! You can do that any time. You can’t do your last college New Year with me anytime. Clary.”

            He bounced himself up to his feet and crossed to where she was sitting at her desk. Prior to his arrival fifteen minutes ago, Clary had been color-coding her schedule for next semester, but now all her careful planning was forgotten. Magnus grabbed her hands and knelt down at her feet.

            “You’re being dramatic,” she sighed.

            “I know,” said Magnus, “but trust me, this will be fun. It will be worth it.”

            “Whatever,” Clary scoffed. “You just want to go because Alec is going to be there. Admit it! Some cute jock asked you to a party, and you couldn’t say no.”

            The faint blush that came over Magnus’s cheeks should have been anything but endearing, but there it was. It contrasted in a really lovely way with his eyeliner and the glittery purple eyeshadow he was wearing, especially with his eyes wide like they were, and Clary found her heart warming when she looked at him. He was done up for the occasion, she had to admit. She rolled her eyes so he couldn’t see it in her face, and tugged her hands out of his grip.

            “Look, okay!” said Magnus, getting to his feet. “Whatever, yes, Alec will be there! But that’s not the _point_.”

            “Oh, please. You just don’t want him to think you came to his party alone.”

            “Yes, exactly. As my best friend, you’re obligated to come with me so the very cute swimmer doesn’t think I’m lame.”

            “You _are_ lame.”

            “First of all, rude. I’m the most interesting person you know.”

            Magnus was still giving her the best puppy eyes that he could manage. Clary was almost— _almost_ —immune to it after all these years. At last, she sighed.

            “Where’s his apartment?”

            Magnus pumped his fist in the air. Clary waited for him to get ahold of himself, but it only got worse after; he started talking a mile a minute, and he had clearly expected her to agree from the get-go because he had some meticulously thought out plans.

            “Yes! You’ll have fun, I promise. I won’t even leave your side unless you give me permission to. It will take us, what, twenty minutes to walk to his apartment? We have a couple hours. I won’t even make you change out of your pajamas if you don’t want to.”

            Clary found herself smiling as he went on, though. Soon, he was thanking her profusely and when he tugged on her hand again, she laughed and stood up from her chair, and swayed when he pulled her into a tight embrace that she gave back with unmeasured enthusiasm.

 

\- - -

 

            Clary’s immediate reaction upon walking into Alec’s apartment was one of complete and utter nausea. It was like she could already taste tomorrow morning’s hangover in the back of her throat, and it wasn’t very pleasant.

            A boy that Clary didn’t know had opened the door for them, all bright smiles and teetering steps, and introduced himself as Jace, one of Alec’s two roommates. He gestured them in past him, and they stepped around and got their first real look at the party.

            “Jesus Christ,” Clary muttered, looking around.

            Behind them, Jace gave a little laugh. Magnus, with his arm looped through hers, squeezed her elbow bracingly.

            “It won’t be that bad,” he promised. “Remember, I won’t leave your side. Come on.”

            He pulled her further into the room, and Clary felt more and more like she should have stayed home with every step. Everyone was dressed up in sparkling party clothes, and Clary was thankful she had turned in her pajamas for wedges and a mildly presentable sweater and jeans. She was still extremely underdressed.

            “Do I know anybody here?” Clary asked Magnus.

            “That depends. Do you ever get outside your little art student bubble?”

            Clary groaned. Magnus excused himself to get them drinks, and Clary forgave him for leaving her alone only two minutes after their arrival because her vodka soda was as strong as always, and this time she felt that she needed it. Magnus was pulling her along after him again, supposedly with no purpose in mind but Clary knew who he was looking for.

            “It’s his apartment,” said Magnus exasperatedly, when they’d done two turns around the room and came up with nothing. “It’s not that big.”

            “Are you looking for Alec?”

            The voice made them both turn around. A beautiful girl was standing there in front of them, wearing a pretty partial-smile made of red lipstick and tilting her head at them. Clary’s heart skipped a beat, and the girl’s stare landed on her and didn’t move.

            “Just wanted to tell the host thanks for inviting us,” said Magnus smoothly. “Have you seen him?”

            The girl rolled her eyes and waved her hand vaguely over her shoulder.

            “I think he’s on the fire escape having a smoke break. You’re Magnus, right?”

            “You’ve heard of me?”

            The girl’s mouth curled into something slyer.

            “Oh, here and there,” she said airily. “Alec’s my brother. I have the second room.”

            “Isabelle,” said Magnus, and Isabelle laughed and nodded. “Excuse me while I go say hi.”

            “Of course.”

            Magnus stepped around her, but then he paused and looked back. Clary was still frozen in her spot, watching Isabelle, who was watching her back. Isabelle took a smooth step closer.

            “I didn’t get your name,” she said.

            “Clary. It’s, uh—I’m Clary Fray. Magnus’s friend.”

            Fucking obviously. She flushed and ducked her head, but when she looked up again, Isabelle was smiling slightly at her. Before she could say anything else, Magnus drew her attention back.

            “You coming?” he asked.

            “Oh, uhm—” Clary swallowed, her attention dragging relentlessly back to Isabelle no matter how many times she tried to tear it away to look her best friend in the eye. She could already sense how much shit he was going to give her for this. “Yeah. See you,” she added to Isabelle, moving toward Magnus at last.

            “See you around,” Isabelle returned.

            Clary glanced over her shoulder as she and Magnus walked away. Isabelle was turned toward her, regarding her steadily with her head tilted. Clary finally saw and got the full force of Isabelle’s skin-tight dress then, and she swallowed and turned her attention back around at once.

            Magnus was laughing.

            “What?” said Clary.

            “I said I wouldn’t leave you,” said Magnus, shaking his head. “I didn’t think _you’d_ be leaving _me_.”

            “I’m coming, aren’t I?” said Clary, but she was amused too. “Shut up. Let’s just go find Alec so you can be the one making an idiot of yourself for a change.”

            Although both Magnus and Alec were perfectly civil to her, and neither made her feel unwelcome in their conversation, they both wanted to stay out talking on the fire escape and Clary quickly got cold. She excused herself and ducked back inside, only to find her way immediately blocked. She looked up, intending to tell off whatever drunk idiot had stopped her short, but her tirade died in her throat.

            “Isabelle,” she said, surprised.

            “Hey,” said Isabelle. “Going somewhere?”

            “No,” she said truthfully. “Actually, I’m kind of glad I ran into you. I don’t know anyone at this party at all. Not that I really know you, but…”

            “Magnus ditched you, huh?”

            “I ditched him, actually. Too cold out there.”

            “Hmm.” Isabelle lifted her chin, studying Clary’s face for a moment. Then she clapped her hands together. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep you entertained until he comes back. Do you want another drink?”

            They got refills and sat on the couch together and talked. Clary lost track of what they talked about exactly—there was a lot of conversation. They sat there for an hour, in the midst of the party, everybody milling around them and sitting on the chairs near them and sometimes sitting on the couch with them too, but Clary and Isabelle just ignored them and leaned close to each other so they could hear over the noise and bustle, and keep on talking.

            Isabelle was a biology major, about to graduate too, but they were in entirely separate schools so it was no wonder they had never run into each other. Clary was sure of that, too; she would have remembered her if they had. She also had a lot to say on other things, like politics and war and a whole bunch of stuff that wasn’t really appropriate party talk, but Clary was interested anyway. She liked hearing what Isabelle had to say on all of it, and she liked that someone actually seemed as intrigued by it all as she was. She liked listening to Isabelle talk, too.

            “You’ll have to show me some of your paintings sometime,” said Isabelle, smiling softly at her. Somehow she made it seem like a request. “I’m sure they’re amazing.”

            “They’re okay,” said Clary, blushing.

            “I promise not to be too harsh.”

            “I’m sure there’s an art critic hiding somewhere in that big scientist head of yours,” said Clary, and Isabelle laughed.

            “Well, I’m a lot better at bio than art,” Isabelle assured her. “I want to be a forensic biologist. With the track I’m on, I’m set up to be the youngest one ever.”

            “That’s amazing,” said Clary.

            “Yeah, hopefully. There wasn’t a good program in my old town. I had to come all the way up to urban America just to get a good education, so it’s still a weird switch. I’m not really used to it yet. I’ve been in the city almost four years and I still feel like I haven’t even begun to figure all of it out, not even close.”

            “I can imagine,” said Clary fervently. “You never really figure out New York, to be honest. Where are you from, anyway?”

            “Originally this little town in Maine,” said Isabelle. “It was all forest and wildlife there. Not so good for what I wanted to do. My brothers followed me too, because the school was good and we all got in. I guess we kind of followed each other.”

            “That’s good that you got to stick together, though. You must really care about each other.”

            “So what brings you to Brooklyn?” said Isabelle, leaning her head sideways onto the back of the couch. She reached out and brushed some of Clary’s hair away from her forehead, and Clary shivered. They had gone through a couple more drinks while they had been sitting there, but she wasn’t entirely sure that the reaction could be solely attributed to the alcohol she’d had. “Or have you always lived here?”

            “No, I’ve always been in Brooklyn,” said Clary. “I grew up here, and then I wanted to get into a really good art program and hey, they had one. So I never left.”

            “Who would want to?” Isabelle mused. “I’m not from the city originally. I love it out here though.”

            “I can’t imagine what it’s like not to live here,” Clary said.

            “Yeah, it’s weird. It was such a change, and it took a while to get used to how much _stuff_ there is. It’s incredible here. And gorgeous.”

            “I’m almost jealous. I’m so used to it now, I kind of wish I could see it for the first time all over again.”

            Isabelle said nothing for a long moment. Then she sat up, took Clary’s drink from her hand, and set it along with her own down on the coffee table. She stood and stretched out her hand.

            “Come on,” said Isabelle. “I want to show you something.”

            Clary took Isabelle’s hand and let her pull her up. They didn’t let go until they reached the fire escape, and then only to get out. They both waved little hellos to where Alec and Magnus were still talking by the rail, and then they began to climb. They didn’t stop until they were all the way at the roof, and Clary hauled herself up after Isabelle.

            “Come here,” said Isabelle, gesturing her over. Clary followed her to the edge of the roof. Isabelle leaned in until she was right beside her ear, and she whispered, “Close your eyes.”

            Clary shivered, but did as she was told. Isabelle was standing so close now that their shoulders were touching, and the night was cold but Clary felt nothing but warmth there, at the places where their bare skin touched. She should have brought a jacket out. With Isabelle’s arm striking fire up hers, she was glad that she hadn’t.

            “Open them,” Isabelle breathed. “Pretend that you’re somewhere that you’ve never been. You’re just waking up, and this is a whole new city that you’ve never seen.”

            Slowly, Clary opened her eyes. The sea of lights in front of her was near-blinding, all those different windows filled up with people waiting to reign in the new year, the traffic lights blinking up at her, the headlights and streetlamps dizzyingly bright on the street below. Clary leaned out further over the edge of the roof, entranced.

            “Do you see it?” Isabelle asked eagerly.

            Clary nodded, wondering. Her city had been so beautiful all along, and she’d thought that she’d known it. Now, seeing it like it was new, she could see why Isabelle thought it was—

            “Like magic,” she said, and laughed. “It looks like it’s enchanted.”

            She turned to Isabelle, excited, and saw Isabelle watching her with a steady gaze and her lips pressed together. Isabelle reached out, her fingers brushing Clary’s cheek. As it turned out, Clary hadn’t seen all the lights there were to see. Isabelle was the brightest thing in this whole big city after all.

            “This is the only place in Brooklyn I’ve ever found where you can almost see the stars,” said Isabelle. “The city blots them all out, but you can kind of make them out from here. Come here.”

            She took Clary’s hand again and led her over to the middle of the roof. They laid back on the concrete, side by side, close enough that they were touching. Clary looked up at the sky and she could kind of see what Isabelle meant, especially when Isabelle raised her hand and started pointing out stars with her finger. Clary listened to her as she started to trace out constellations, falling into a lull. The moon was heavy and full, like it might fall right out of the sky.

            Below them, the regular noise and bustle of the city started to get a little louder. Clary turned toward Isabelle.

            “It must be almost midnight,” Isabelle whispered.

            Clary nodded soundlessly.

            Some of their party must have still been out on the fire escape, because Clary could hear their voices rise up to them, far away up on the roof. She could hear them as they started up the countdown. Ten…nine…

            “Four, three,” whispered Clary.

            Her whole attention was trained on Isabelle. Isabelle was looking back.

            “Two,” Isabelle murmured with her.

            Isabelle raised up onto her elbow before Clary got to the last number. She swept some of Clary’s hair off her cheek, leaned over her, and gently pressed her mouth to hers.

            They kissed a good half minute past midnight, Isabelle pressing Clary down into the roof, Clary running her hands through Isabelle’s hair and down her back, doing her best to kiss her back when her head felt so light and swimmy with the alcohol and Isabelle’s perfume. Clary was fixated on it. She thought it might have some vanilla mixed in.

            At last, they pulled back, but they didn’t go far. Isabelle stayed hovering above her. Clary kept running her hand through Isabelle’s hair and gazing up at her, mooning really.

            “I think that’s the first New Year’s kiss I’ve ever had,” Clary said, and Isabelle laughed.

            “Did it meet all your hopes and dreams?”

            “And then some,” said Clary fervently, and Isabelle kissed her again.

            It was shorter this time, and then Isabelle pulled away and lay on her back again beside her. Clary rolled onto her side, not wanting to lose sight of her. She really was radiant.

            “You’re just drunk,” said Isabelle. “It was just like any other kiss.”

            “I’m not drunk,” said Clary. She paused. “Well, maybe I am, a little. So are you.”

            “Some of us can hold our liquor.”

            “Shut up,” said Clary, laughing, and it made Isabelle laugh with her. The sound was twinkling, laced through with stars. “Hmm, you know. You sound like the moon.”

            Isabelle’s laugh was more startled now. “What?”

            “Like,” said Clary, turning red. “Like, you know. Like it sounds…celestial.”

            “God, you are a liberal arts student,” said Isabelle, but Clary could tell she was teasing.

            “It kind of reminds me of this song,” said Clary dreamily. “Wait, let me think.”

            “Oh, lord.”

            They fell silent as Clary thought it over, trying to find the song that was tugging at the edge of her brain. Maybe she really was drunker than she’d thought, because trying to go through her head at the moment felt like swimming through really thick soup. After a while, Isabelle reached out and twined her fingers through Clary’s. Her hand was warm, her grip tight. She started humming something, and it took Clary a moment to place it.

            “Wait—that’s the song! What is that? Hum another bar.”

            Isabelle looked over at her.

            “One Last Time By Moonlight?” she said, surprised.

            “You know Enya?” said Clary, raising her eyebrows too.

            “Yeah,” said Isabelle. “I’m just surprised that’s what you were thinking.”

            She started humming it again, almost idly; but Clary picked up where she was in the song and started singing along, butchering a lot of the lyrics, and definitely in the wrong key. Isabelle kept laughing through her humming, messing up the rhythm a lot. They ended up breaking down laughing before they were even halfway through the song, clutching at each other’s hand and falling half on top of each other, although Clary was still trying her best to sing it to Isabelle.

            “Oh, stop it! Stop it,” said Isabelle. “Come here.”

            She pulled Clary in closer, and Clary stopped singing long enough to grin up at Isabelle, inches away from her face. Her smile slipped quietly off her cheeks. Being so close to Isabelle, with her looking at her like that—something in it just robbed Clary completely of breath. Clary had only a moment to swallow around the sudden lump in her throat before Isabelle pressed in the rest of the distance and kissed her soundly.

            They spent a good portion of the night like that, talking and kissing and laughing together under the stars. Clary was pretty sure it was her best New Year’s yet.

 

\- - -

 

            There was a loud, persistent ringing in her ear that was making Clary seriously contemplate murder.

            She squinted her eyes open and immediately groaned, besieged by the blinding light. She could hear her mother puttering around in the kitchen, chatting to someone, probably Dot. Clary groped around next to her until she came up with her phone and promptly pulled the blanket back up over her head, bringing her phone up close to her face so she could squint at the caller on the screen.

            “Magnus,” she groaned when she picked up. “Why are you calling me at this ungodly hour?”

            “It’s noon,” he said, though he seemed similarly worse for wear. “How’s the hangover?”

            “Like Death decided to do the tango in my head,” said Clary. “You?”

            “Yeah, I think he just moved in to mine,” said Magnus. “Anyway, I was just about to get up and make some coffee, but then I figured you might want to do breakfast instead. Catch up on our nights? We didn’t really spend much of the party together.”

            “Sorry about that,” said Clary.

            “Me too,” he returned. “So. Breakfast?”

            “Sounds good,” said Clary. The more that she thought about it, the more the party was coming back to her sleep- and drink-addled head, and a giddiness was spreading through her stomach, feeling like a bubble getting slowly bigger and bigger inside her. “Meet you at our usual café in a half hour?”

            “See you soon.”

            Even after they hung up, Clary didn’t immediately move. Instead she allowed herself to burrow back into her bed for another precious moment. Soon, though, that bubble had reached a size that even Clary couldn’t ignore, and she sat up, letting the covers fall down around her waist. She remembered it all crystal clear, she just—she had to make sure it hadn’t all been some kind of wild dream.

            She picked her phone back up and scrolled through it quickly. Forgoing her contacts, she pulled up her recent messages instead. There, right above Magnus’s and her mother’s recent text chains, was one short little message thread.

 

            _izzy (4:03am): hey. i had a really good new years. im glad i spent it with you_

_clary (4:26am): im home safe. p.s. i had a rlly good new year with you too. still wanna get dinner this weekend?_

_izzy (4:27am): definitely yes. call you later when i know what my work schedule looks like_

 

            Clary took an unsteady breath in. That bubble in her had burst, and all she felt now—aside from the hangover still hammering hard at the side of her skull—was elation and a restlessness in the depths of her bones, like she wanted to jump around and shout. She pressed her phone against her chest and tried to just breathe. After a moment she collected herself, took a couple deep breaths, and got up to start getting dressed to meet Magnus. She couldn’t help but glance at the texts between her and Isabelle every couple of minutes to make sure that they were still real, that they hadn’t disappeared like a recent dream when she wasn’t looking at them. She couldn’t stop smiling.

            She had the worst hangover of her life. She was going to graduate in May and be pushed out into the real world, and she had no idea what she was going to do then. She was dead broke, she felt incredibly nauseous, and pretty much every part of her life felt like one giant question mark.

            Still, she thought senselessly, as she tied up her boots and wound a scarf around her neck. She could just tell that it was going to be a really great year.

**Author's Note:**

> [based on this post](http://softfaeiry.tumblr.com/post/155242489885/clizzy-au-where-clary-gets-dragged-by-her-best) and i? couldn't resist?
> 
> title from [this year by the mountain goats](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ii6kJaGiRaI) because idk, obligatory new years song for a new years fic?  
>  
> 
> i'm on tumblr [here](http://freyias.tumblr.com/post/155762470895). feel free to drop by! :)
> 
> xoxo


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